Trusted, always
by feralandfree
Summary: Molly seems so harmless, so innocent, so kind. Nobody suspects that she has secrets of her own, secrets that maybe even Sherlock Holmes doesn't know about. Just how much can she be trusted?


It was an unseasonably warm morning, and patients were particularly grumpy as they had to wait in line next to other, less odourless patients.

Honestly, was soap such a foreign concept for some people?

"Please excuse me." Molly smiled as she passed a particularly surly gentleman at the entrance.

Tom wiped perspiration from his brow and sighed, walking towards her. "Do you need help in the morgue?" He asked with a grimace.

Dead patients might be creepy, but at least they don't complain.

"Actually, I could use someone to double check some tests." Molly started distractedly as she donned her lab coat. Tom moved towards her eagerly.

"Sherlock will be coming over later to check them out, so if its..."

"Never mind." Tom interrupted her, taking a step back.

"Maybe some other day." Molly murmured with a smile as her co-worker hurried out of the room.

After checking her mail, watering the flowerpot on the windowsill and checking the progress of an experiment, Molly got to work.

A few minutes later, quietly humming to herself, she pulled out a liver and put it in a clean bowl.

"You really should have checked your drinking, Mr. Calloway." She shook her head as her hands instinctively reached for a scalpel.

Her hand stilled as she heard a familiar voice echoing down the corridor.

"Security cameras at the shop show the girl buying a chocolate ice cream at 14.30. He's lying!"

The doors swung open and Sherlock strode into the room, followed by John who, with an inquiring look, asked: "How do you know he's lying? The boyfriend was at the statue in the middle of the park, what has..."

"Honestly, John. If I didn't know you I'd think you never had an ice cream in your life..." Sherlock threw his coat on a chair with a sigh.

"There are exactly 7 rubbish bins between the ice-cream stand and 3 water fountains, and it was a hot day. Hello, Molly. Could you pull out the girl's corpse, please."

Molly nodded and obliged while Sherlock continued his explanation.

" Do you remember the Instagram picture she took that day? Just think of what she was wearing to the date: a blue miniskirt, a pink top, kitten heels -hardly practical for walking in the park- and pink lipstick."

The consulting detective stepped forward as she pulled away the white sheet to reveal the whiter face of the young victim.

"The boyfriend said he met her at the statue at 3 o'clock. That is a whole half-hour after she bought the ice-cream." Sherlock picked up the girl's right hand. "A 16-year-old girl who is going to see a boy she has been dating for only two weeks, and who posts daily on Instagram, will still want to look her best and make a good impression, right?"

John looked at her face. "She didn't refresh her make-up?" He asked hesitantly as he noticed the pale lips.

His friend nodded. "Feel her fingers."

The doctor frowned slightly. "They're sticky..."

" Her cheek is still sticky, too. In the thirty minutes between buying an ice-cream and meeting her boyfriend, Sonya didn't wash her hands or fix her face, even though there were 3 fountains where she could have done so. Why? Because she didn't have time. Her boyfriend is the last one we know to have seen her alive, however he did not meet her at 3 o'clock but much sooner."

"So he's the killer, then?" Molly ventured to ask.

"No, of course not! Did you see his haircut?" Sherlock scoffed. "He was lying, however, and what we need to do is find out why...Molly, do you have the test results?"

"Yes." She nodded, slightly subdued.

"Good. Fetch them for me, please. Oh, and a coffee too. Black, two sugars. Now John, if we consider the dog-walker's left boot..."

John smiled encouragingly at Molly as she flitted out of the door.

* * *

With a sigh she made her way to the coffee machine. Thankfully the room was empty.

Molly hummed and tapped her fingers against the wall as she waited for the hot drink to be ready.

When the coffee poured out, its strong aroma wafting around her, she ignored the white sugar packets and pulled out a small vial from her pocket. She swiftly poured it in the cup.

* * *

Molly walked into the room, the steaming coffee held in one hand, the test results in the other.

Sherlock was in the middle of an explanation, waving his arms and walking about the room in an almost comical manner. Without losing his stride nor line of reasoning, he took the coffee and the results and moved to open the folder on the table. The consulting detective only halted the swift, agitated flow of words to take a sip, wince and tell Molly the coffee was too sweet, and then perused the results attentively, his foot tapping incessantly against a leg of the chair he sat down on.

Molly and John looked at each other.

"Ha! I knew it!" Sherlock cried triumphantly, closing the folder with one hand, reaching for his coat and standing up in one fluent motion of his agile body. he almost raced out of the room, confident his friend would follow.

"Bye, Molly." She heard John call awkwardly as he ran after the vanishing Sherlock Holmes.

"Right. OK." The pathologist called after them.

Then she was alone.

With a sigh she opened a folder and made some notes.

* * *

It was still sunny but cooler when Molly walked.

She turned her face upwards, facing the sun, and breathed in deeply, enjoying the warmth on her skin.

A chilled bottle of water in one hand, she cheerfully strolled away from the hospital.

Molly's house was to the left. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she turned left into an alley.

A car was waiting for her.

"Hello, Molly. "

"Hi." She responded calmly as she sat next to her in the back seat. "How was your day?"

Anthea shrugged.

* * *

Together the two women walked into the facility. The security guard let them past the main entrance, from whence they strode down a long corridor with red carpets to the large lift doors.

"Seventh floor." Anthea commanded.

"The seventh floor requires level B security clearance." A cool stiff voice echoed with ominous calm against the spacious lift's metallic walls.

"Voice recognition: codename Molly."

"Voice recognition: codename Anthea."

The two women were taken to the seventh floor.

With a quiet hiss the bullet-proof doors opened onto a luxurious room with wood panelling, Persian carpets and soft lights coming from crystal chandeliers.

"Molly, Anthea." A sleek, poised woman nodded as they strode in, lifting her hand from the red button as she recognised them and pressing a blue one instead.

"Let them in, Cassandra."

"He's waiting." She smiled.

Together the two women walked to the largest of the wooden doors, knocked and entered the room.

He was standing with a glass of sherry in his hand, an elbow leaning on the striking marble fireplace as he gazed into his drink.

"Good afternoon, ladies." he murmured quietly before taking a sip. With the hand holding the glass he pointed at the two armchairs in front of a gargantuan mahogany desk.

Molly and Anthea obligingly sat down.

"Report."

"Subject B is doing fairly well." Anthea began. "The tweak in dosage has abated his metabolic issues, although he is still suffering from inertia. He is responding to stimuli as expected and his cognitive faculties are stable. Puzzle 34C24 was successfully solved in 30 minutes."

"Have there been any unusual side-effects to the change in his medication?"

"No, sir."

"What about his ligyrophobia? It had diminished by 29% last time we made adjustments..."

"There has been no significant change, sir. However, Subject B can function fully even in challenging situations when commanded to do so."

He nodded and turned to Molly.

"Subject C still suffers from occasional hypo mania, particularly in the 2 hours before his medication. Despite the adjustments, he still seeks constant and frequent stimuli, his brain activity is 20% above what was anticipated..."

"Has the subject tried self-medicating again?" He interrupted.

She shook her head. "Not since I resorted to physical discipline and made him apologise."

"Mmh." He grunted, taking another sip of sherry. Molly's back stiffened slightly. Although her tactic had obtained the desired result, she had been severely admonished for risking damage to the subject which could have compromised the project.

She changed the subject.

"Problem 34C24 was solved in 33 minutes. Subject C has begun..."

"What about his depression?"

"There have been fewer and milder episodes of depression since Subject C's friendship with the doctor 5 years ago." Molly replied, her head tilting upwards with slight pride as she had insisted that a friend would have been beneficial to the subject's mental stability. "I expect another 10% decrease of said episodes this year."

She coughed. "I would like to add that the current dosage still has that unusual effect on the subject's taste buds. Although I do not put any sugar in his coffee, the medication makes it taste too sweet for him.

"It tastes sweet to Subject B, too. Thankfully he has returned to eating crumpets for breakfast, so have the medication goes in his tea, the other in his jam." Anthea interjected.

Molly shook her head at the implicit suggestion. "Subject C eating habits are still too irregular, I would encourage the lab to reduce the amount of fructose instead."

He nodded and poured himself another small glass of sherry.

"Is trust still intact?" he asked. "They suspect nothing?"

"Nothing." Both women confirmed.

"Good. I must remind you that as handlers, you are to remain detached and inconspicuous. Do not attract attention to yourselves. Your subjects will trust and obey you as long as you are marginal and irrelevant, unworthy of investigation." His eyes turned to Molly. "Familiarity is to be discouraged."

He then emptied his glass, the usual sign that the weekly debriefing was at an end.

"Cassandra will give you your weekly assignments."

* * *

The sun had set when the two ladies stepped onto the streets. Warm yellow lights were glowing, lighting up the restaurants and the cheerful customers within. Molly's eyes fell on a couple in their late twenties as they laughingly chatted, walking down the street with some salt and vinegar chips wrapped in brown paper. The boy grinned and waved a chip in front of his partner's face, pulling it away at the last minute and demanding a kiss as payment. With a grin the girl snatched the chip away, then kissed him the boy on the lips before biting into her prize with triumph.

"Anthea..."

"Mmh?"

"Do you ever wonder..." She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"What we're doing...This project...Are we...We're doing the right thing, aren't we?"

Anthea looked at her for a split second before Molly started talking again. "Never mind, forget I said anything." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Good." Anthea murmured. "I will. We wouldn't want to forget what happened to Subject A, would we?" She added quietly as their cars pulled up and the doors were opened for them.

"Good night, _Molly_." Anthea stressed her codename with a wink, then sat down in the seat, her phone in her hand.

* * *

A few minutes later, Molly opened the door to her apartment with a sigh.

Dropping her bag to the floor, she sat down on the sofa and let her head fall back, her eyes closed.

A soft beep came from within her handbag.

She took a breath and remained completely still for a moment.

Then she leaned forward and pulled her phone out of the inside pocket.

 _"Come. Now. S."_

For a while she just sat there, looking at the screen.

Another beep.

 _"Please. S."_

She blinked.

Her jaw clenching, she typed her answer.

 _"On my way. M."_

Molly slipped the phone back into the pocket and grabbed the handbag as she strode to the entrance.

She turned the keys and halted, her forehead resting against the door frame.

"You shouldn't trust me." She whispered.

Molly opened the door and walked out.

.

* * *

.

Hi everyone!

I have finally finished at work, all the scripts and stuff are finished so I should be free to write until September when the madness starts again!

This oneshot is dedicated to Renaissancebooklover108 who won this little prize from her review-writing. It's been a long time coming, but better late than never! She pitched the intriguing idea of Molly being not so good and innocent as everyone might think. I hope she and you are happy with the result.

For those who follow me, here is a little piece of news: "The coffee cup and the suitcase" and "the Valley of Boxes" will have a third story to go with them, so watch this space!

Thanks for reading my fics.

Feral


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